Ride the Savage Land No Dying Today, Parts 1 & 2
by MJRod
Summary: What happens to Mano, Buck & Olive after they are found by the men of the High Chaparral? Henry Darrow's & Cameron Mitchell's performances resonate yet today, nearly a half century later. This piece honors the friendship of Buck & Mano & offers a glimpse of what may have occurred.
1. Chapter 1

11

_The_ _High_ _Chaparral_: "Ride the Savage Land"…No Dying Today, Part 1

By MJRod

_Note: Henry Darrow's and Cameron Mitchell's unforgettable portrayals of Manolito Montoya and Buck Cannon resonate yet today, nearly 50 years after this episode of _TheHighChaparral_ first aired: a tribute to two gifted actors and a stellar producer, directors, cast, crew, and writers. Special thanks go to Wendy for her _buena idea_ about Mano's whiskey and for reminding me to show and not tell...and kudos to KD for just the right Buck Cannon phrase. Gracias tambien a Vicki, mi maestra de Espanol! Here I attempt, as so many have previously done, to fill in some of the gaps of my favorite episode, which premiered on my 11__th__ birthday, February 11, 1968. The story picks up just as the Chaparral men spot Mano & Buck in the distance. Enjoy, and a Happy 81__st__ Birthday to Senor Enrique Delgado / Henry Darrow, forever Manolito to all _HC_ faithful._

Dusty and trail worn, the cowboys from the High Chaparral halted in a dry grassy clearing. Peering into the distance, each squinted from horseback into the harsh setting sun obscuring the forms of two slowly approaching riders.

"Can't make out who it is, Pa," said Blue Cannon, cupping a hand over his eyes.

The figures emerged from the glare. Silhouettes now, they materialized into the men's field of vision and were known.

"It's Buck and Manolito!" hollered Blue. Raucous shouts exploded from the cowboys who spurred their horses toward the riders. Even normally staid Big John Cannon broke into a smile as wide as Virginia and let out a whoop as he urged his mount forward.

But all was not right.

The group slowed and stopped as they neared Buck and Mano. Mano listed unsteadily in the saddle. He failed to acknowledge them—no smile, no laugh, no good humored, "Hola!" Buck, face careworn and creased with worry, held a drowsy child and offered no greeting at all.

"Sam!" Buck called and the foreman immediately dismounted and hurried to take the young girl from Buck, who jumped from his own horse just as a smiling Blue rode up beside Mano.

"Mano?" Blue began.

"I have a…dizziness…" murmured Manolito, sliding off his mount and collapsing into the arms of the waiting Buck who eased him to the ground.

"Mano," Buck urged, gently shaking his friend.

Manolo Montoya opened his eyes briefly, cracked a slight smile, then lapsed into unconsciousness, his head drooping against his chest.

Buck looked at John and the others and quietly said, "Mucho hombre. Much man."

John Cannon nodded solemnly, while Buck hugged Mano tighter and turned his own head away from the onlookers. Blue stared open mouthed.

Big John dismounted, untied his bedroll and strode toward his brother and brother-in-law. Kneeling beside both men, he gently placed a hand on Buck's shoulder.

"Buck, here's my bedroll. Let's make him more comfortable." Buck did not reply but grasped the bedroll and with John's help, arranged a rough pillow for Mano's head. The caballero's breathing was shallow but steady. One look at the blood encrusting Mano's shirt and the red welts just visible beneath his throat told John all he needed to know. He walked toward his foreman who still held the little girl.

"Sam."

"Yes, Mr. Cannon."

"We've got to get Mano to some water. He's been horsewhipped, from what I can tell, and the wounds need to be cleaned."

"Yes sir. There's a clear stream about three miles from here on the way back to the ranch. Be a good place to camp."

"Yes. Good. Why don't you and the boys head there, set up camp, get some grub going. Send Joe back for us. I'll stay here. Blue will probably want to stay, too."

"Yes sir."

"And Sam, I think we should get Mano back to the ranch as soon as possible. We're going to need the buckboard."

"Yes sir. Why don't I send Ira and Reno back to the Chaparral after supper? They can make it in a few hours and set out with the buckboard at first light."

"That would be best," said Cannon. "If it seems risky, send them to the ranch before dawn instead. Your call, Sam."

"Yes sir, Mr. Cannon. What about this little lady?" asked Sam, indicating Olive, the girl Buck and Mano had rescued from the Apaches.

"You'll make better time if she waits here with us," replied John, who turned kindly blue eyes upon the silent child.

"Miss Olive, I'm John Cannon. I own the High Chaparral ranch. Tomorrow my men will take you there. My brother, Buck, and brother-in-law, Senor Montoya, are the ones who brought you here," Cannon continued, nodding at the pair now joined by Blue.

"Your sister, Miss Ann, is at my ranch with my wife, Victoria," continued the rancher. The little girl smiled shyly. "Your sister is safe and she will be very pleased to see you. For now, though, why don't you stay here with us while the men go to prepare camp?"

Sam set the little girl down and she took Big John's hand. Together they walked to the unconscious Mano. Buck, head buried in his hands, sat silently beside his friend while Blue knelt nearby, watching.

Olive timidly approached Buck, sat down beside him, and gently slid her small arm in his. Buck pulled her close, cradling her head against his chest and enfolding her with his right arm. Silence reigned as the Chaparral men mounted up and rode off. Olive nodded, then dozed. Manolito still slept.

"You want to tell us about it, Buck?" John finally broke the silence.

"Ain't much to tell," Buck replied. "I was headed to Tucson to see if I could get anyone to ride with me. Mano come after me."

"Yeah. He told Victoria he was going to try to change your mind," said John.

"Well, I guess that's what he done, John. He had this idea that we could buy this little gal from the A-pach. She was nothin' but a slave to 'em. Made sense. He had some money from his daddy, so we figured, why not?

"We had a set-to with a little Apache scouting party. Three. We buried 'em, John, but they shot Mano's horse. So we headed off on ol' Rebel and come upon them buffalo soldiers stringing telegraph wires at Calabasas."

"We buried _them_, Buck," commented John somberly.

"Bad, John. Real bad. We was there just 'fore it happened. Mano bought a horse from the sergeant. Three come riding up, a scouting party, and John, that old boy sergeant, he didn't know how to talk to them Apache. Wouldn't listen to us. It wasn't long after we rode out that we heard shots, so we went back to see what we could do. Too late, John. Too late. Reminded me of Gettysburg, third day. Nothing left but the dead.

"There we was and up come a whole raiding party. Mano convinced 'em to take us to their camp." Buck paused.

"Then what happened, Uncle Buck?" asked Blue.

"Well, Blue Boy, I am here to tell you that if it wasn't for S'nor Montoya here, we'd be dead." Looking at John, he continued. "And John, if it wasn't for your wife, we'd be jest as dead."

"Victoria?" John asked, surprised.

"None other. There we was in the camp and that old boy Chief Tobar, he wasn't having none of our bargaining. Mano savvied that we was gonna be handed to the squaws for torture. I guess they'd a had a whinga dinga of a time with this here boy, but I don't like to think on it.

"Then out come the old Ghost Medicine Man hisself. He knowed the name Cannon, John. He knowed Victoria, that she helped that A-pach, Nok-ay-del. We made it clear pretty quick Mano was her brother. That changed Tobar's tone."

"He sold you the girl?"

"Not exactly. He said one of us would have to pass a test of courage, and if he passed we could have this here little gal. They made us draw for it. Mano lost. He wouldn't trade with me, John."

"Buck, I doubt the Apaches would have let you trade."

"Mebbe not. But it weren't his place to do it. It was my idea. I wanted to take that test."

"What was the test, Uncle Buck?" Blue asked.

Buck fell silent. After a few moments, he softly said, "They strung him upside down on a cross and give him a whupping he ain't never gonna forget." Buck's gravelly voice cracked. His eyes watered; a stray tear glistened on a coarse cheek. He blinked and wiped his face with his shirtsleeve.

"Braves rode at him on horseback. Each one struck with a whip. He couldn't cry out or nuthin' or I wouldn't be here telling you this, Blue Boy.

"Mano, he just kinda grinned and didn't say a doggone word. Hangin' there, not one dang word."

Buck paused, swallowed hard, inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly.

"Chief figured Mano passed and they give us little Olive here and let us go. Said they wouldn't hurt us none. The old boy who took my hat even gave it back. We been riding toward Chaparral ever since."

Mano groaned quietly and stirred. Blinking, he opened his eyes narrowly and looked at the three Cannons.

"Mano, you all right? You need something?" Buck asked eagerly. Olive opened sleepy eyes briefly before nodding off again.

"Si, agua, por favor."

Blue quickly opened his canteen and held it to Mano's lips.

"Gracias." Then, awaking a bit more and squinting at John and Blue, Mano uttered a hoarse, "Hey, good to see you. Looks like we made it, Buck."

"Yep, we made it, Mano. We gonna have to clean them cuts though."

"Si, entiendo. Momento, por favor."

"The boys are setting up camp near the river. We'll get you fixed up and back to Chaparral tomorrow," said John.

"Si," replied Mano.

"Mano, I'm sorry about all this," said Buck.

With a grimace, Mano rose slightly from his prone position, supporting himself with his left elbow. His right arm burned. The shoulder had been dislocated as he had hung upon the cross and was sore, although he had succeeded in popping it back into place with the assistance of the medicine man, who as it turned out, knew about such things.

"Buck, you are to listen to me, here in the presence of this your brother and his son," Mano said firmly in a quiet voice.

"I did not want to go after la muchacha, it is true. I also did not want to see you dead. This you _must_ know. Compadre, you were _right_. I was wrong." Indicating the sleeping girl, Mano continued. "And amigo, knowing what I know now, I would do it again. Buck, escuchame. I would do it again, entiendes?"

"Si, Mano. I do," said Buck in a low voice, as Mano lay back, exhausted.

"Hey, chihuahua…better me than you, compadre. Those braves would have been blinded as the sun glanced off your ugly white gringo skin, amigo," Mano softly said with a faint grin, attempting a joke to break the tension before closing his eyes again. The Cannons smiled.

Nothing more was said.

Olive slept peacefully. The others fell silent with their thoughts and their thoughts fell to the caballero now resting before them.

Buck knew he had found in this younger man a kindred spirit who ride with him to hell and back and stop at every saloon and cantina on the way. Weren't nobody like Mano. Nope. Nobody.

Blue figured he had underestimated Mano. He liked him well enough, even though he could get a body in nine kinds of trouble with them women he favored. Perlita. Conchita. Would that fella ever settle down? Not likely. Mano understood him though. Mano understood what it took to run a big spread and why he, Blue, wasn't near ready for it. Mano understood what it was to deal with a demanding pa. Mano just flat understood.

John reflected on the first time he had met this brother-in-law of his. Mano had saved his life, then stolen his horse. Fate played strange tricks. Who'd have thought that drifter the son of Don Sebastian Montoya? Why Mano hadn't wound up dead in an alley in Nogales or shot by the rurales, John did not know. Talked himself out of trouble most times, John guessed. Didn't take foolish risks. Counted the cost. Handier in a gunfight than a fistfight. Women, Mano had his pick. A smile flickered across John's face and he shook his head. Mano got into so many scrapes, but none so big that he couldn't wriggle out of them. Mano could teach Blue how to survive. Yep, he'd get Blue into trouble, but he'd also get him out of it. He knew every comanchero, bandit, and most of the Apache chiefs and subchiefs. And his Apache came in handy too. Victoria told him many times what having Mano at the High Chaparral as part of the family meant to her. She had feared for her brother's life often. He had been a wild one. John Cannon figured that on that day he married a Montoya and Mano came as part of the deal, it was really he who struck gold all around.

* * *

><p>The setting sun painted the sky with red and bronze streaks, bathing the Cannon men, Mano, and the girl in soft golden light. Blue stood and stretched stiff limbs.<p>

"Joe's comin', Pa," Blue said, spying the distant rider rapidly approaching from the east.

Buck roused the little girl. "Miss Olive, this here's my nephew Blue Boy. You's going to ride with Blue for a bit," he told the girl, who turned calm eyes upon the younger man. Living among the Apache as a slave had made her adaptable and compliant. She was used to being told what to do.

"Mano," Buck said but words were not necessary as the younger man had already begun to stir. Buck assisted him to a sitting position.

Joe Butler dismounted.

"Camp's ready, Boss," he said to John. "I brought Mano some fresh water." Joe offered an opened canteen to Buck who lifted it to Mano's lips.

Slowly Buck and Joe helped the caballero to his feet and together they hoisted him upon his horse, no easy matter but one accomplished silently and without complaint.

John held the reins of Mano's horse and steadied both horse and brother-in-law while Buck and Joe mounted up. The three rode out slowly, Buck and Joe flanking Mano in case he should falter.

John lifted Olive and handed her to Blue atop Soapy before mounting his own stallion and riding after. The journey to camp was uneventful and brief.

* * *

><p>Sam had located a good spot, John thought, in the foothills. Boulders and scrubby trees surrounded a small clearing. Twenty yards away a small stream bubbled, filled with mountain run off. Bacon and frijoles simmered on the fire, the smell blending with that of the coffee Pedro had set to boiling. Reno and Ira had wolfed down a hasty meal and already departed for the Chaparral. Men rushed to help with the horses as the travelers entered the camp.<p>

John dismounted, handed the reins to Sam, and lifted Olive from her perch beside Blue.

Joe and Buck helped Mano off his mount, then led him just beyond the camp to the stream, where they eased him onto a flat rock near the water, peeled off his shirt and removed his boots. The night was still hot and they knew they must work swiftly before the evening chill.

Pedro brought empty tin coffee cups and freshly cut aloe vera.

"Buck, you can use the sap from this aloe to treat his wounds," explained Pedro. "My mother always did this with us when we were ninos and had scrapes and stings. It is a balm."

Buck nodded. Joe and he filled cups with water and began rinsing the cuts on Mano's torso and the skin on his ankles rubbed raw by the ropes of the Apache.

"Mano, I think these welts are gonna heal up jest fine," said Buck. "But you got a coupla deep cuts here, under your ribcage."

There the skin was flayed and the rinsing only opened the wounds which had begun to crust over. Blood seeped again.

"Senora Cannon, she give me this roll of bandages before we left," said Pedro, fetching a package from his saddlebag. "She say she had a bad feeling."

"Glad she did," muttered Buck, taking the bandages and tearing off a wad which he soaked in the stream and used to gently clean the deep cuts. Mano winced.

"Ay, contra. What are you doing, hombre? Trying to kill me?" he uttered, irritated.

"Got to do this. You know'd it." Buck worked swiftly, brow furrowed and eyes focused.

"Joe, got any whiskey?" Joe produced a small flask and Buck poured some on Mano's side before tearing off another wad of bandage, pressing it into the clean wounds, and wrapping the whole with a strip of cloth. The remaining welts he dabbed with aloe. He nodded to Joe, who walked off to join Pedro by the fire.

"Mano, I don't think they's gonna be too many scars, iffen we keep ointment on 'em. But we got to watch them gashes."

"Si. No telling what the Apache use to lubricate their whips," Mano grinned slightly. "Bear grease, buffalo fat, dung, human excrement."

"Hell of a thing you did, Mano. Hell of a thing."

"Heroes are those who have no choice, compadre."

"How'd you keep from yellin' out?"

"Ay, no se. The alternative was to die like a dog. This shuts one's mouth most effectively," Mano paused. "I will tell you. This would make my sister, Father Ruffino, and Padre Sanchez most happy and it is the truth. After the first blow, I did not think I could remain silent. I started saying 'Hail Marys' and 'Our Fathers' over and over again in my mind. That is all I could think of to do. It worked."

"I guess the Big Man wasn't ready for us today, Mano," said Buck.

"Si. Estoy de acuerdo. Why not is another matter, compadre."

Buck helped Mano pull back on his shirt and boots and struggle to his feet.

"Lean on me, Mano." Supporting Mano's left side, Buck helped him hobble into the campsite where Mano collapsed atop a pallet laid by Pedro next to smooth boulder. Buck fetched plates of frijoles, cups of coffee, and canteens of water for them both. Mano ate but a few bites yet drank deeply. He spied Olive, sitting near the fire by Blue who amused her by drawing stick figures in the dirt. Except for the Apache clothes on her body, paint on her face, and marks on her throat, she could have been any little girl anywhere enjoying a game.

Buck and Mano watched.

"I know why not, Mano," said Buck, indicating the girl.

"Es verdad, amigo."

* * *

><p>Buck rolled his bedroll next to Mano's and they passed a fitful night, with Buck offering water to Mano often, urging him to drink. After a few hours shut eye, both awoke and the rest of the Chaparral crew stirred.<p>

"Be noon at best 'fore Reno and Ira return with the rig," Buck told John. "You best go on and git this little gal to her sister. Let Joe stay with Mano and me and y'all ride on out."

"You're right Buck. Victoria will be worried. I'm sure Reno and Ira told her some of what happened," said John.

"That littlun 'ill take her mind off things a bit. Y'all got to get ready for Mano. Them wounds is nasty, couple might need to be worked on. We gonna need bandages, ointment, alcohol, aloe…and a big ol' tub a clean water."

"Yep," the rancher replied. "Well, we'll push on after breakfast."

And so they did, but not before Pedro had left Buck well supplied with freshly cut and peeled aloe.

Buck changed Mano's bandages, rinsing off the welts with fresh water brought from the stream in canteens. The gashes near his ribcage looked redder than yesterday, the surrounding area puffy and hot to the touch. Buck grimaced.

"Mano, we's gonna have to do something about them cuts."

"Si. First wash your hands, amigo," Mano, eyes shut, spoke softly and deliberately, barely moving his lips.

"Yes sir, Mr. Montoya," chuckled Buck, "Yes, sir." But his smile faded as he walked to the stream and rinsed his hands and knife. He heated the blade in the campfire and let it cool before approaching Mano.

"Joe, grab hold of him so he don't kick," Buck said.

Joe was not needed, but he held Mano anyway while Buck used the knife to clean out the wounds. Mano groaned but offered no resistance. Joe helped spread aloe on the welts. Mano felt hot to both men, hotter than the previous day. Sweat ran down his face. After pouring the last of Joe's whiskey and wrapping the most grievous wounds, Buck soaked a wad of lint in cold water and placed it on Mano's forehead.

"Gracias," Mano said and closed his eyes, lapsing again into unconsciousness. He would drift in and out of consciousness until the buckboard arrived long past noon.

By then, Mano's fever had worsened. Infection, thought Buck. Well, it'll wait, I think.

It wouldn't wait.

A quick check of Mano's bandaged cuts revealed fiery redness and the beginnings of crimson streaks just beneath the skin. Blood poisoning. Buck had seen it in the war, seen how a man with a minor wound could pick up an infection, become delirious in a matter of hours, and be gone shortly after. No time to waste. Ordering Joe to build up the fire again, Buck pulled out his knife, honing it razor sharp on the small whetstone he always carried. He poured water upon the knife, wiped it clean, then heated it in the fire and allowed it to cool.

"Joe, hold him down in case he wakes up," Buck ordered.

Mano was only semi conscious when Buck peeled off the bandages and again used the knife.

"Whiskey?" Buck said.

"I'm out," Joe replied.

"Well, get some, boys. Check the saddlebags."

"Here's some in Mano's," Reno called out, digging into the saddlebag slung across the horse that had once belonged to a corporal.

"Bring 'er here," Buck responded.

"No, hombre, no," wailed Mano, suddenly alert. "Do not use my whiskey. It is imported from Scotland. My father waited ten months for a case to arrive in Mexico City. I kept a bottle as my price for retrieving it for him."

"But Mano," said Buck, taking the bottle from Reno.

"Don't you realize," said Mano, "A woman can conceive and give birth to a child in less time. Please, I beg you. Not my whiskey."

Buck sighed. "I do understand friend, but if we don't sterilize them wounds, you will probably die. Then you won't get to drink it anyway."

"And if I live, I will want to die, knowing how my bottle of whiskey was used."

"I wondered why you insisted on bringin' that bag."

"Hombre, I thought we might have occasion for a last drink before paying our visit to the Apache. Why should we not drink the best?"

Buck poured a generous amount over the wounds before taking a swig himself. Mano's eyes opened wide but, restrained by Joe, he did not move.

"You are a sadist, amigo," Mano said through clenched teeth. "Ay yi yi, what did I ever do to you? That is a waste of good whiskey. Give me a drink."

"Just trying to save yore life, amee-go," Buck replied. "I hate this more than you do."

"That is what they all say."

Buck gave him a drink and passed the bottle to the others, who each took a swallow.

"I'm afraid this one's gonna stay with you, Romeo. Perlita may not like 'at scar," said Buck.

"No matter, compadre, other women will find it attractive and Perlita has become much too expensive. She will not even open the door to me if I do not arrive with a dress from Victoria, and one day my sister is going to realize what I have been doing."

Reno and Ira laughed nervously and even Joe cracked a smile. Mano was the only guy they knew to whom women never said no.

Buck bandaged the wounds, tied his horse and Mano's mount to the side rail, and climbed into the rear buckboard seat. Mano lay just behind, partly shaded and resting on blankets brought from the ranch. Ira clucked to the team and they set out. Joe rode quietly beside rig, drivers, and injured man. Reno sat shotgun.

The sun blazed overhead for a few hours before beginning its descent, cooling the desert slowly. Buck frequently made them stop or slow to force Mano to drink. Groggily, he did so, yet each time sleep returned less easily. Desiring no conversation, Mano kept his eyes closed. His side throbbed and his chest burned.

Ay, Manolo, this just may be it for you, hombre. What will your father say? A stupid way to die for a stupid son. Mano smiled. No grandchildren for you, Papa. At least not from me. I have often thought I might die because of a woman, but strangely I always envisioned her to be over 11. Ay muchacha, a little child will be the death of me. Ahora, if this is my time, there is no priest. Would Victoria send to Tucson for Father Ignatius? So much to confess. A glance upward showed Buck sprawled sideways, staring into the distance. Sensing Mano, Buck turned sharply to his friend.

"Mano, you awake? You need somethin'?"

"No, companero. Estoy bien," Mano replied and closed both eyes again. Buck would not let him die, if Buck could help it. To have a friend like that, perhaps this is why he stayed at Chaparral. It had been nearly a year since their arrival, Victoria and he, at the rancho. Then he was to protect her, to assure her well-being. This was no longer necessary. Should he die now, Victoria would be fine. His beautiful sister had actually fallen in love with that gringo John Cannon, much older than she. Mano would never have imagined it. She could have had her pick of suitors, far younger, far richer. Manito, you do not understand the women. Admit it, caballero. Victoria saw in John Cannon honor, principle, a dream. Well, it was his dream as well, for now at least, thought Manolito. For Don Sebastian Montoya, the highest value was expedience. For John Cannon, it was something more. And John Cannon now looked at Victoria with warmth and even desire, both of which Mano knew well. This was good. Only a block of stone could resist Victoria, but for a time, Mano had feared John capable of being nothing more than granite.

"Mano, drink some water. Ira, slow up a bit," Buck insisted. Mano complied. What un gran amigo was Buck. Mi gran amigo. Si, it was worth it to die to save your hide, Mano thought.

Many friends Mano had always enjoyed, and he had ridden freely with them. But there were none who would refuse to lie to his face. Many extended kindness only because of his father, this he knew. El Lobo, Miguel, they would kill him as soon as look at him. Well, Miguel at least, would do this. Es cierto…and ahora, Lobo, too, ensconced at Yuma prison. At Chaparral he had friends who would not betray him. This is why he stayed. Papa probably expected him to have already grown bored and returned to Sonora. He was free to come and go. John asked little of him on the rancho, but the truth was he was needed there, and he had never been truly needed anywhere. An appendage, an accessory, the son of my father…this was Manolo Montoya. He rather liked the idea of being needed. Best to hang on to this life awhile longer…because I am needed.

* * *

><p>Five hours later, they were due to arrive at the High Chaparral. When they were about an hour from the gate, Joe rode ahead to prepare those who waited within.<p>

Those within were uneasy. Victoria had questioned Ira and Reno the previous night. She had been overjoyed to learn that Buck and Mano were alive and the little girl safe, but the hesitance in Reno's voice betrayed him and Ira looked away as they delivered the news.

"They are all right, are they not?" she demanded.

"Yes, ma'am, only…ah…Mano has been hurt," Reno replied.

"Hurt? What has happened?"

"Well, ma'am, we don't exactly know, except Mr. Cannon told Sam to send us back for the buckboard. Mano, uh, he cannot ride," Reno answered, awkwardly looking around for a means of escape.

"I think he'll be fine, ma'am," Ira said finally. "Please excuse us, Mrs. Cannon. We need to get some sleep so we can leave early."

"Si, gracias," Victoria replied faintly. She turned to walk back inside while the men asked the night sentry to wake them long before dawn. They probably wanted to avoid her in the morning, she thought. Well, best to be hopeful. She uttered a short prayer and went to tell Ann the good news. Together they rummaged through an old chest till Victoria found a dress she had worn as a child. She had been saving it for a daughter of her own, but Olive's need was more urgent and gladly she gave it to Ann for her sister.

"I believe Olive will be here early tomorrow with some of the men," Victoria told Ann. "Perhaps you should get some rest now."

"Yes, ma'am," replied Ann. "How are Mr. Buck and Mr. Manolito?"

"They are alive, but I fear my brother has been injured, Ann. I do not know how badly. I am going to say a prayer for him."

"I will do that as well, Mrs. Cannon."

Victoria smiled at the girl. "Good night dear. Thank you for your prayers."

Ann nodded, took Olive's dress, and went to her bed, heart full of gladness and also concern for the men she had convinced to risk their lives to rescue her sister.

Victoria closed the door to the room that John and she shared. Covering her head with a lacey mantilla, she knelt beside the small altar above which hung a crucifix, an addition she had made to their bedroom. There she prayed that Our Father would spare the life of her brother.

* * *

><p>The next morning, the look on John's face as he rode into the yard confirmed her fears. She ran to embrace her husband as he dismounted. John grasped her tightly and kissed her firmly.<p>

"Oh John, what has happened to Buck and Manolito?"

"They are alive, Victoria. Alive. Buck is fine but Mano is hurt. I believe he will recover."

"Oh John, he must."

Squeals of joy interrupted the bittersweet reunion as Blue handed Olive down to Pedro and the sisters embraced. Victoria smiled and welcomed Olive before summoning the housekeeper, Violeta, to take charge of the nina and see her bathed, dressed, and fed. She turned again to her husband.

"John, tell me what has happened." He did, and Victoria's eyes grew more troubled and sorrowful the longer he spoke.

"He cannot die, John. He cannot. What will it do to Papa?" Or to me, she thought. Mano was a constant in her life, the one whose affection she had always commanded and had loved deeply in return. Only recently had she won the heart of John Cannon. Mano and she had together endured the demands of their father and the death of their mother. And now in the home of her husband, in _her_ home, Manolo had found a place and a purpose. No, Senor, no, do not take my brother who at last has a home. Madre de Dios, spare mi hermano, I beg you.

"I refuse to worry," she announced. "I refuse." As if saying it could make it so.

* * *

><p>Evening turned to night as the buckboard drew close to the High Chaparral compound. A single shot from a sentry signaled its approach. John, Victoria, and Blue stepped onto the veranda and watched as Ira maneuvered the rig near to the house.<p>

Mano opened his eyes. His forehead burned, his side throbbed, and his chest felt raw. He tried to prop himself up using his left elbow, since the right arm still ached. He could not easily move. Buck straddled the buckboard seat, then edged his way down beside Mano.

"Blue Boy, kin you pull them blankets Mano is settin' on toward you a little?" Buck asked. Blue did so and the two men and John eased the caballero out of the rig. Buck and Blue supported Mano into the house and up the stairs to his room where a tub of clean warm water awaited and fresh sheets covered the bed. John wrapped his arm around the stricken Victoria, who softly called her brother's name, causing the three to pause at the door to Mano's room.

Mano turned his head and caught his sister's eye, giving her a slight smile and a wink. "Hola, hermanita mia," before his escorts shuffled him inside.

Vaquero stood in the corner with bandages, whiskey, aloe cuttings, and ointment. Buck and Blue helped Mano remove shirt, pants, boots, and bandages, easing him into the tub. He sank into the warm soapy water as deeply as possible. It stung his wounds but otherwise felt good.

"Ay yi yi," he moaned.

"Vaquero and I got this, Blue. Would you mind asking Victoria if she has some soup or broth for him to eat? Mebbe she can warm some up."

"Sure, Uncle Buck."

"How's it feel, Mano?"

"Estoy bien."

"Vaquero and me, we's gonna let you soak a bit, then get you out and bandage them cuts again."

"Si. Do not hurry."

"Vaquero, stay with him," Buck said. He strode to the kitchen and asked his sister-in-law to wash his knife and heat its blade on the stove as she warmed the broth.

"This is just in case Mano's side looks worse than it did today, Victoria," Buck explained.

"Si," she replied, eyes moistening. She took the knife, blinked back the tears, and inhaled deliberately. John stood behind her, touching her arms gently, a solemn look on his face.

Buck returned to Mano's room. Vaquero and he hoisted the younger man out of the tub, assisted him in gently toweling off, and helped him into the clean white trousers of a peon which he so favored for sleep. The welts were red and raw, but the gashes far less than they had been. Eyeing Vaquero, who nodded in agreement, Buck poured whiskey on Mano's side, pressed wadding into the wounds, and dressed the site. Then both men dabbed aloe on the welts and helped Mano to a sitting position in bed.

Victoria knocked, hot soup and heated knife on a tray. She gasped when she saw the angry welts but, recovering herself, carried in the tray without dropping it.

"That ain't gonna be necessary, time being," Buck said softly, indicating the knife. She nodded, relieved.

"Well, Manolito, I see you have had an adventure," Victoria said with a brave smile.

"Si. And something occurred which will make you most vain, my sister."

"Vain?"

"Si, downright conceited."

"Manolito."

"You see, the Apaches know you by name, hermanita mia. You are a great healer to them, the only good one of the white eyes. Only you. Buck and I, we basked in your reflected glory at the camp of the Apache."

"Manolo, what do you mean?"

"He means that he and I'd be dead right now, Victoria, iffen that old Ghost Medicine Man hadn't a know'd what you done for that Nok-Ay-del awhile back," Buck explained.

"Si," Mano smiled, swallowing the spoonful of soup she offered. "You are quite well known. I have it on good authority that many Apache will be lining up outside the gates of the rancho so you can treat them for minor wounds. They are on their way now."

John, who had entered behind his wife and remained in the background, smiled.

Victoria smiled. "In that case, I will treat them gladly." She fed Mano two more spoonsful of soup.

"I just wish, Victoria, that you had done a little more for Nok-Ay-del. Perhaps then I would have been spared this beating," Mano chuckled, then grimaced. "Ay, gracias, mi hita por la sopa. Ahora, quiero dormir, por favor." He painstakingly settled down into the bed and gave his sister a nod and a slight grin before closing his eyes. All left the room except Buck, who would stay there all night sprawled on a chair, occasionally waking Mano to make him drink water and watching his friend rest quietly until the next dawn.

"Hey Buck…que tal?" Mano asked hoarsely as the sunlight streamed through the window slats, awaking him.

"Jes' fine, Mano," replied Buck, stirring. "How 'bout you, compadre?"

"I believe I will live, amigo. I believe I will live."

"Good, 'cause there ain't no priest here to hear your confession, which'd surely take hours iffen you could remember it all, an' I don't want you to die un-ab-solved," Buck grinned.

"Hey, any more of my whiskey?  
>"Thought you'd never ask, a-mee-go." Buck produced the bottle, poured two glasses full, and the two drank a toast to friendship, life, and the young girls they had saved.<p>

"Salud."

"Salud, compadre."  
>There would be no dying today at the High Chaparral.<p>

_"Ride the Savage Land": No Dying Today by MJRod. © 2014. All rights reserved. No one can copyright Buck, Mano & the High Chaparral, for that has already been done._


	2. Chapter 2

"Ride the Savage Land" No Dying Today, Part 2

By MJRod

Household noises—the clanging of pans and the shutting of doors—filtered into Mano's room. Outside, horses whinnied. Hands gathered for breakfast and the day's orders while those who had been on guard duty overnight trudged to the bunkhouse for sleep. The ranch awakened.

Two men sat silently sipping Scotch—Buck still sprawled across a chair, Mano propped up in bed, leaning against the iron headboard. Each remained lost in his thoughts for many minutes until the older man spoke.

"Yore daddy sure knows how to pick his whiskey, Mano. This is smooth. Smooth." Buck hiccoughed.

"Si, only the best for Papa," replied Mano with a smile. He glanced at the empty bottle, thinking how much Don Sebastian had also often wished for the best of sons. Lo siento, Papa. You have only me, and this awhile longer. Mano laughed to himself. A gentle knock sounded at the door.

"Manolo?"

"Si, Victoria. Entra, muchacha."

Victoria Cannon slipped into the room, a rustle of petticoats and cornflower blue silk, flanked by Vaquero, bearing bandages, and Violeta, carrying a breakfast tray. Victoria's dark eyes found those of her brother. She burst into a radiant smile as she saw him sitting upright.

"Manolito! You look much better today!" Grinning at her disheveled brother-in-law, she said curtly, "I am afraid I cannot say the same for you, Buck!" Walking quickly to Mano, Victoria pressed the back of her hand against his forehead. "I believe your fever is gone!"

"Si, estoy bien," said Mano.

"What is this? Is it not a bit early in the day to drink whiskey, Manolo?" Victoria asked, eyeing the glass. She frowned at Buck. "This is not what I meant when I said to watch over him."

Buck struggled to push himself up in the chair. "Whiskey's fer medicinal purposes is all, Victoria."

"And are _you_ injured, Buck?"

"It is never too early to drink to survival, hermanita mia," Mano grinned. "The whiskey, eh, alleviates the great pain I am experiencing."

"Yore daddy's whiskey is rewardin'. Very rewardin,'" Buck added. Victoria tried to show mock disapproval but smiled in spite of herself.

"Manolo, Vaquero will change your dressing, and Violeta has brought you some breakfast."

"Gracias," replied Mano, sitting up further to allow Vaquero to work.

"Your side looks much improved today," Vaquero noted with satisfaction.

"Si, ah, Violeta, give that tray to Buck, por favor," said Mano, wincing at the sting of the alcohol that Vaquero poured upon the wounds. "I will come down to breakfast. I wish to get out of this room. Buck, you have not eaten for days. Please go ahead."

"Don't mind if I do," Buck answered. "Gracias," he mumbled to Violeta while taking the tray and starting in on the eggs and bacon. His eyelids were heavy but the opportunity to eat roused him.

"You must wear your arm in a sling for several days," said Vaquero. "I have made one for you to use." Mano nodded his assent.

"And I will go prepare a place for you at the table, Mano!" Victoria proclaimed, gliding from the room with a broad smile.

"Senor Mano, shall I bring your clothes? I washed them early this morning and they should be now dry on the line," asked Violeta.

"No, gracias. I will wear something, ah, more comfortable today," replied Mano, thinking of the soft peon's shirt he favored when patronizing cantinas in Nogales and Torreon. "Pero, Violeta, ven aqui, por favor," Mano said under his breath, observing Buck wolfing down tortillas and eggs. Violeta crept near as Vaquero was finishing his work and the three conversed in Spanish. Only a few words caught Buck's attention: "Camisa…pantalones…limpiar." He paid them no mind. Mano smiled, eyes twinkling, and Violeta giggled as Vaquero approached Buck.

"Buck," said Vaquero. Nodding to Violeta, he continued, "Violeta has offered to wash your clothes today. I will bring you fresh under garments to wear in the meantime."

"Huh?" Buck asked, puzzled, bits of egg on the side of his mouth.

"Si, hombre," said Mano, indicating the tub of water he had bathed in last night. "Amigo, we have been long on the trail. You are dusty and dirty. Vaquero will heat some water and warm up that tub. Why not take a bath and then lie in my bed? Violeta tells me the niñas are staying in your room. You have had no sleep, hombre. You have not slept well for three days."

"Oh no, Mano, I couldn't. I jes couldn't."

"Oh, yes you _can_, amigo. I wish to go downstairs."

"Well, Mano, I…" But it was too late. Vaquero strode from the room, shortly to return with a steaming cauldron of hot water.

"Senor Buck, ask Vaquero to place your clothes outside and I will clean them for you," Violeta said while picking up the tray to return to the kitchen.

Mano laughed. "You have no choice, amigo, especially if you are to sleep in _my_ bed."

"Well, I guess a bath would feel purdy good." Buck pulled at the front of his shirt and sniffed it. Grimacing, he said, "I reckon yore right. These clothes is about ready to walk to the wash water by they-selves."

"Si, compadre. Es verdad."

And so it was done. A very clean and very tired Buck Cannon collapsed on Mano's bed, surprising himself and the entire rancho by not awaking until early the next morning.

* * *

><p>"Well, looka there!" John Cannon exclaimed as Mano gingerly approached the table, right arm in a sling.<p>

"Hey, Mano!" Blue cheerfully called, rising quickly to help with Mano's chair.

"Gracias," Mano smiled, nodding at Ann and Olive, also seated. "It seems we have two charming and lovely ladies gracing our table today." The girls giggled.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Manolito?" Ann asked.

"Estoy bien, muchacha," Mano answered. "Estoy bien."

Victoria placed a plate in front of her brother, pouring his coffee. Eggs wrapped in a tortilla. Easy to eat left-handed, Mano thought appreciatively. "Gracias."

"Yes, these young ladies have exciting news," said Victoria.

"The Army is coming for us tomorrow!" Ann explained. "We shall be taken to our aunt and uncle in St. Louis."

"Oh, your aunt and uncle, do you remember these people?" Mano inquired.

"I do," said Ann. "Olive was too little when we stopped there on our way to the Arizona territory. Aunt Sarah and Uncle Jim were kind. They are storekeepers. We will live with them and our cousins."

"Bueno. Then you will lack for no good thing," Mano said.

"Niñas, I have another surprise for you," said Victoria. "Today you will ride into Tucson with Mr. Cannon and Blue." Olive's eyes opened wide. Ann smiled broadly.

"Yes, we need some supplies, and Mrs. Cannon informs me that you young ladies require traveling bonnets and shoes," said Big John.

"You must finish your breakfast and prepare for your journey," Victoria advised, smiling. Mano watched his sister fuss over the muchachas. La gallina y sus pollitas, he thought. Victoria glowed around children. Perhaps Our Lady will bless you yet with one of your own, hermanita mia.

"Yes ma'am!" both girls replied.

"May we be excused?" Ann asked.

Victoria nodded, "Of course, my dears. When you are ready, I will put ribbons in your hair for your trip to Tucson."

The girls jumped up from the table. Both paused before Mano. Olive, who still rarely spoke, motioned with her finger for the caballero to lean toward her and surprised him with a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, Mr. Manolito," she said with a smile and a giggle before scurrying upstairs.

"Yes, thank you," Ann echoed, also shyly bestowing a kiss before heading to Buck's room.

"Ay yi yi, never have the kisses of any lady been as sweet," Mano said, grinning.

"And how many _ladies_ have _you_ kissed, Manolito?" Victoria said pointedly before bursting into laughter. All at the table smiled. After a moment of silence, John cleared his throat and spoke.

"Mano…I want to thank you for the life of my brother."

"De nada, Señor Cannon. But it was really Buck who saved me."

John paused. That was more true than Mano knew. Fair to say Buck had done some good with Mano. At least Buck had corralled some of the younger man's wild nature. Or, more likely, coupled it with his own. Buck was a free spirit, too.

"No, Mano. Buck would have gotten himself killed going after that girl. You found a way to get the job done and I'm grateful. It's good to have you both back safe and sound."

Mano said nothing but nodded.

"Now don't you think it's about time you stopped calling me Señor Cannon and started calling me John?"

Mano laughed. "I will try, Big John. I will try."

Victoria beamed.

"Where's Uncle Buck?" Blue asked suddenly.

"Oh, Buck, well, he is upstairs in my room, sleeping. He has not had much rest at all since we left three days ago. I insisted." Pausing to wipe his mouth with his napkin, Mano choked back his laughter and added, "And, eh, his clothes are now being washed by Violeta. I encouraged him not to let that tub of water go to waste. He has had a bath."

"A bath!" Blue cried, incredulous. "How'd you manage that?"

"Ah, well, Blue, the bath was the price of using my bed," Mano said, grinning broadly.

Everyone smiled. None could remember Buck's last bath.

* * *

><p>The day passed uneventfully with John, Blue, and the girls in Tucson and Victoria bustling about the home with housework and meal preparations, stopping often to check on her brother who either rested on the hammock outside or, more frequently, upon the gold velvet couch within. From a bookshelf, Mano plucked the copy of the works of Cervantes which Victoria had brought from Sonora. He leafed through his favorite sections featuring Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, perusing these with amusement.<p>

"You could have been a scholar if you had not been such a wild one, Manolito," Victoria exclaimed during one of her sallies through the living room. She patted her brother lightly on his good shoulder. "Had you spent more time studying and less time carousing, Papa would not have tired of the expense of the university."

Mano cocked an eye at her, grinned wryly, and remained silent. Carousing with Santos Castaneda, you mean, hermana. Santos. The loss of his friend stung him still. Santos, you gave me no choice, hombre. Ay, Pilar…what has become of you?

The coming of the French in 1861, not Don Sebastian, had signaled the end of Mano's studies at the university, but Victoria was right: Papa would have tired of the expense. Back to the Hacienda Montoya Mano had gone when his querida madre had died. It had not been a good stretch…Don Sebastian in mourning, easily angered. Soon Mano spent more and more time in cantinas and less as the fine young caballero his father desired. He had never found it easy to be the son of his father. Eventually it became impossible.

Mano fell asleep reading Cervantes. In his dream he saw Sancho Panza, looking much like Buck Cannon…and he saw himself as Don Quixote, leveling his lance at a windmill. The windmill's blades rotated wildly, yet as he neared on his faithful steed Rocinante, Mano noticed that Mano also hung inverted upon the windmill, just beneath the blades. He rode at…himself, lance held high. Mano on the windmill made no noise as Mano on horseback took aim with the lance. Suddenly he awoke, relieved to find himself on the couch of his sister and not about to run himself through. An alienist from a later generation would have warned against self-destructive tendencies. Mano shook his head and struggled to a sitting position to find Victoria approaching with a tray.

"Coffee, Manolito?"

"Si, gracias, con un poquito de coñac, por favor."

"I have already thought of that," Victoria smiled. She checked his bandages, reapplied some aloe and salve, and, wiping her hands, sat down in a nearby chair.

"I am so glad you are better, my brother, so glad that you are alive," she said, her voice rich and a bit tremulous, eyes shining.

"Yo tambien, muchacha," he said. "Why did you not go to Tucson?"

"Ay, too much to do, Manolo. The work never ends and the young ladies are leaving tomorrow. I want to have a special meal tonight. I see you are still reading. Do you enjoy Cervantes as you once did?"

Mano nodded.

"Does it seem you and Buck have been tilting at windmills?"

"Si," Mano nodded and shrugged. "Sometimes all of my life I believe has been spent in this way."

"Manolo, what shall I write to Papa about what has happened?"

"You will write Papa nothing, Victoria."

"But he should know," she exclaimed.

"No."

"Mano, he will think what you have done very noble."

"I said no. Tell him nothing. No le digas nada. Punto y se acabo."

"Porque no, Manolito? Why not?"

"Because, Victoria, nothing I ever do pleases him. He will only point out my foolhardiness in accompanying Buck. Or if he thinks what I did noble, he may order me back to the Rancho Montoya to assume my station, and he will be angry when I refuse. No. Tell him nothing. Nada, entiendes?"

"Si, Manolo. I will do as you wish." She kissed her brother lightly on the cheek. "I am glad you are here, Manolo. Te quiero mucho."

"So am I, hermanita mia. Yo te quiero tambien."

Victoria caught herself before she said more. She longed to tell Mano how pleased she was he had found a home at the High Chaparral, but she dared not enkindle his restlessness. One never knew….

Victoria's supper did not disappoint. That evening, Blue taught the girls to play checkers, a game Ann vaguely recalled. Mano read sections of _Don_ _Quixote_ aloud for their amusement. All retired early. With Buck still snoring in his room, Mano slept on the sofa.

This time he dreamed of nothing at all.

* * *

><p>Buck Cannon blinked open his eyes to darkness, the house still and quiet. Moonlight drifted in through the window slats. A pocket watch on the bedside table read 2:00; he had slept nearly 16 hours, a record for him. Something smelled almost fragrant in the room. Buck laughed when he realized he was smelling himself. Maybe there was somethin' to them baths, Buck thought. He lit an oil lamp, found his freshly cleaned clothes on the chair, and dressed quickly. He crept quietly to the kitchen, noticing Mano asleep on the couch.<p>

That caballero's snoring's getting louder, thought Buck. Yep, time waits for no man, even if a whole lotta women do. In the kitchen, Buck stoked the flames under a burner and reheated some leftover coffee. He grabbed a tortilla and a few pieces of jerky from the cupboard. Cup and food in hand, he walked out to the back porch where he sat in darkness, looking out at the night, listening to the occasional howl of a wolf or rustle of a nocturnal creature.

Purt near said a-dios to all this, Mano and me, Buck mused to himself. Several hours passed as he sat alone with his thoughts. Drowsy again, Buck headed back to bed for just a few minutes….

Loud rapping at the door awakened him. Mano burst in, now clothed in the gear of a vaquero.

"Buck, los soldados are here for the niñas!"

"What time is it?"

"Nearly eight o'clock, hombre! Andale or you will miss them! Vamanos!"

* * *

><p>Days earlier, after leaving the Chaparral, Colonel Biddle had dispatched a man to Fort Marcy to cable St. Louis regarding Ann, safely at the Cannon ranch, and her sister, still captive. Army officials in Missouri had quickly located the girls' relatives.<p>

The morning after the Chaparral men found Mano, Buck, and the girl, John Cannon sent Sam Butler to Fort Marcy to convey the good news of little Olive's rescue and the tragic news of the deaths of the telegraph detail and of Biddle himself. Sam's return to the Chaparral brought the message that the girls' family was eager to have Ann and Olive. The Army would be along within two days.

The Army was true to its word, arriving at the High Chaparral with a detachment large enough to escort the most notorious prisoner to his fate.

Buck and Mano walked outside in the warm sunlit morning to say goodbye to the niñas.

"Thank you, Mr. Buck," Olive called, smiling from her perch atop the wagon.

"Any time, Miss Olive," Buck grinned as he answered, tipping his hat.

Ann said nothing but solemnly made the Apache sign for peace, which Mano silently returned. Buck saluted.

All watched with a mixture of sadness and gladness as the wagons pulled out. The niñas had enlivened the place and would be missed.

Mano smiled broadly, satisfied. Placing his hand upon his gran amigo Buck's shoulder, the younger man said, "You know what the Apache say? When you ride the savage land, you are part of it and it is part of you."

The two walked together to the gate to watch soldiers, wagons, horses, and children move out of sight. The others set about their tasks.

There would be only living today—much living—at the High Chaparral.

_Copyright © by MJRod. All rights reserved. Of course one cannot copyright Buck, Mano, or the High Chaparral, for that has already been done._


End file.
